


Birds Hover the Trampled Field

by calciferian



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, F/F, Light Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciferian/pseuds/calciferian
Summary: Byleth finds one of Lysithea's lost items. The battle of Derdriu looms in the distance.---crimson flowers recruited lysithea mourns for hilda, the fic.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	Birds Hover the Trampled Field

**Author's Note:**

> title obviously taken from the richard siken poem. i would like to warn you about the content of this fic! obviously major character death, this deals with cf recruited lysithea grappling with the actions the black eagle strike force has to take during the war. i go into some horror, i discuss injuries although not in detail, there is a dream sequence with horror imagery, and discussions of war/blood/death typical to canon!

It was a warm afternoon at Garreg Mach. Lysithea thought it was perhaps a bit too fitting for the mood; as Edelgard had not stopped smiling since the professor returned. Five long years of war, though they were now at a stalemate, and suddenly things would begin to move again. It was for the best, anyway. Lysithea couldn’t stand staying still like this, not when she was so short on time.

She sat outside, on one of the myriad benches, leafing through a dark magic tome just one more time. Edelgard had been very clear about their first objective, which was to eliminate the Leicester Alliance. Lysithea hated how her stomach turned over it. She’d resolved to stick by El a long time ago, and yet, when she thought of her former classmates, of seeing them on the battlefield…

She was startled out of her thoughts by the approach of their professor. Byleth, as they were wont to do, had returned to their old habit of running around the Monastery, usually with gifts in hand for students or invitations to tea. It was comforting, in a way, like a return to something familiar. Lysithea had always appreciated them. Whenever she thought of how warmly they praised her effort, she couldn’t help but feel a fondness for them, quirks and all.

“Hi, Professor!” She said, looking up at them. Byleth did not really smile much; but Lysithea had grown good at reading what their face meant. This particular look was something like a smile, a half quirk of the lip, so small you might miss it, if you didn’t know them well. They held out their hand, a small item of something curled in it. Lysithea held her hand out to receive the item.

They dropped it in her palm. Lysithea looked it over, brows furrowed. It was a crystal perfume bottle with a stopper. For a moment, a single heartbeat, Lysithea couldn’t remember where she’d seen it before, and then all at once it hit her. 

Lysithea had seen this because it was a gift. From Hilda.

Five long years ago she’d lost it. In the chaos of everything, it must have slipped from her pocket. Hilda had bought it for her, specifically, had given it to her with the little grin that always graced her face. By then, Lysithea knew Hilda enough to be able to tell when the grin was a front, and when it was real. This particular one was real. 

“It matches with mine!” Hilda had said. “It’s like, a special occasion kind of scent… cedar, bergamot, patchouli, and violet! I think it’d suit you.”

Lysithea had tucked it in her pocket, said some words of thanks. What in the world was she doing that day? She had something or the other to run off to, a lesson or mission. By now she could hardly remember. The only thing that stood out was Hilda’s smile, and then the remnant scent she left behind, something floral but electric.

Lysithea looked up at Byleth, gave them a warm smile. “That’s mine! Thank you for finding it.”

The Professor nodded, and then ran off elsewhere. All for the better. Lysithea clutched the bottle in her hand, fist curled around the clear crystal, and stalked to her room where she could be alone.

In her room, she could breathe. In her room, there was space to. She went to her desk, stacked high with tomes and books on crestology and papers upon papers. She found a blank, and her fountain pen, and set to writing. She put the perfume bottle next to her, stopper firmly closing it.

Over the past five years, she and Hilda had written each other. Sparingly, of course; it wouldn’t do to write the enemy, but there was always some stubborn part of her that thought maybe she could convince Hilda to switch sides. Hilda, near as stubborn as Lysithea was, asked the exact same of her. Lysithea would receive her letters, rare as they were, read them, memorize the contents—the way Hilda’s script danced on the page, the mess of her writing, her thoughts, the parts she scratched out, and then she would burn them so that no one else would ever find them.

She was certain Hubert read them. He still allowed the letters to reach her, which she thought was El’s doing. Part of her knew that it was a futile effort to try and get Hilda to defect, which Hubert and Edelgard must have known as well. Lysithea would not ever leave the Black Eagle Strike Force, either. She wanted to accomplish something worthwhile with the short time she had left, and she hedged her bets on what Edelgard and the Professor had to offer.

Her fountain pen scratched against the page. She recalled with ease what Hilda had to say in her last letter. She’d asked why, why Edelgard instead of Claude, why not return to the Golden Deer? In her looping script, she’d written  _ If it’s because I wasn’t— _ and then scratched it out, and asked if El was offering better benefits. How terribly Lysithea wanted to unpick the seam there, to find the core of Hilda’s worry and soothe it. Maybe if she appealed to Hilda’s ego, she’d change her mind. The path to Edelgard’s victory traveled directly against the Alliance, and they were marching towards defeating them. At the end of the month, they were taking the Great Bridge of Myrddin, and after that…

Lysithea knew she could not write warnings. If she revealed any part of their plans, it would ruin everything. Her work here relied on trust, and warning a member of the Alliance that they were coming would be tantamount to an utter betrayal of Edelgard’s cause. She could imagine it now, Hubert’s face reading her letter, burning it himself.

Lysithea grit her teeth. She threw her pen down on her desk, picked up the letter which was nothing if not disgusting in how clearly she was begging. She crumpled it in her hands, wet ink staining her fingers, and threw it in the wastebasket next to her desk. She wilted against her desk, head resting on the wood, and stared at her little lost perfume bottle.

One shaking hand reached for the crystal. She uncorked the stopper, and took out the wand to apply the scent to her wrists, like Hilda had once taught her. Lysithea’s own heart betrayed her with how it jumped; like it hadn’t received the notice that this was just the remainder of a gift and not Hilda herself finally coming back to her.

They were friends, five long years ago. Lysithea, in the quiet of her room, surrounded by her scent, could admit that she’d coveted Hilda, that there were times where her feelings were something more than friendship. It was just a little puppy dog crush on the girl who made her feel more mature, and who was never afraid to tell her how pretty she was. She doesn’t like the way she  _ wants  _ Hilda to return, and see how much she’s grown, to see the harm the crest system has done and to want to abolish it, alongside Lysithea. She pulled her wrist to her face and inhales deeply. The way it settles on her skin is not the way she’d imagine it settling on Hilda’s. 

Her arms fell to her sides. She looked at her papers, at her books. She should eat. She hadn’t eaten all day. Lysithea ignored the needs of her body for the sake of her work, more often than not. She couldn’t count the number of times another Black Eagle told her off for it.

When she ate dinner that night, Dorothea remarked on how nice she smelled, and Lysithea thought back to the full bottle of perfume in her room, about how her gut kept twisting whenever she smelled it on herself. She said, “Thank you.” She did not elaborate on where she got it.

* * *

They captured the Bridge of Myrddin in their first big win in five years. The grid lock, as easily as it had started, stopped. Their next target is Derdriu, and Claude. By now, they knew he would be there. There was no telling who else he would bring, but Lysithea had this funny feeling that she’d be seeing Hilda sooner rather than later.

She stood next to Leonie as she fished, hands gathered neatly in front of herself. “How do you feel about taking Derdriu?” She asked, looking at Leonie out of the corner of her eye.

Leonie’s hands, which were usually steady, shook ever so slightly on the handle of her fishing pole. “I think it’ll go well. Myrddin was easy, right?”

“Right,” said Lysithea, thinking about how they felled  _ Judith of Daphnel.  _ If it was easy, it was too easy, and she did not trust it. “But…”

Leonie’s lips pressed to a flat line. “We have to do what we have to do.”

Lysithea dropped the subject.

* * *

She and Edelgard had tea together. It hadn’t exactly become a weekly ritual, really, but it was a tradition. They had similar taste in sweets, and Lysithea would take those excuses to talk to her if she could. They had, insofar, only spoken about the things they had gone through exactly once, though it was a conversation that had lasted all night. Those experiments made Edelgard something like family; or at least, the closest thing Lysithea had left. House Ordelia would no longer speak to her, though she had tried. But Edelgard; in all her complexities, enjoyed her company. Lysithea was glad to have it. Today’s tea, however, had a purpose.

“I have to make a request,” Lysithea said. She left her tea on its dish in front of her, and looked at Edelgard, who appraised her. 

“Of what sort?” Edelgard raised an eyebrow.

“Personal,” Lysithea said. She steeled herself. She would not ever imagine showing such weakness in front of the other Black Eagles, lest anyone think her not worthy of her place. Mercy was weakness. Lysithea did not fancy herself someone with weaknesses like this. She certainly cared for the people who fought alongside her, but to hold sympathies for the enemy? She was sure Edelgard knew exactly what she was getting at, too. Lysithea hated the way Edelgard saw through her.

“Go ahead,” Edelgard said. Magnanimous. Even one on one, there was something about Edelgard, about the way she carried herself, the power with which she spoke. There might have always been something different about her, even before the experiments. It was easy to see why the empire rallied around her, why her troops were all too happy to die for her. Adrestia could not help but fall in line before an Emperor. It remained to be seen if Fódlan would follow suit.

“Avoid Hilda and Claude,” she said. “Please.”

Edelgard’s brow twitched, just so slightly, but her face remained as neutral as ever in response. Lysithea, sensing the rejection, pushed more.

“In all our years of knowing each other, have I ever asked you something like this?” Lysithea said. Edelgard let out a breath, posture folding ever so slightly.

“No,” Edelgard said. Though the army had taken all the territory it could, though Lysithea had to renounce any claim to Ordelia, though Lysithea had to work with the people who  _ made  _ her the way she was, she did not ask nor wanted for anything. Nothing other than her chance to do something right, something worthwhile.

“This is all I ask of you,” Lysithea said. “Just this one thing. Mercy goes a long way, and, in Hilda’s case—her brother is a good ally to have on your side! We could take Fódlan’s Locket, if she were spared out of the magnanimity of the emperor. For me, El?”

Edelgard’s brows furrow, now, face shifting to that of sympathy. “You know there is nothing I would refuse you. For all the world, Lys.” Edelgard says, voice soft; but there is a ragged edge, there. “But this one thing…”

Lysithea’s brows knit together. Edelgard shook her head.

“I will do my very best to avoid her. Should she fight back, Lysithea, should she threaten my life, or the lives of our allies… I cannot help what happens.”

“There’s nothing to be done for it, then,” Lysithea said. Her voice was steady and even, though the hands on her teacup trembled. In their tea blend, Lysithea could detect bergamot. The scent was cloying. Too much like Hilda.

Edelgard reached out to take Lysithea’s hand, and Lysithea, weakling she was, accepted it. Her hands still shook, but Edelgard squeezed both of them, grounding her there.

“I have to protect my people,” Edelgard said. 

“I know,” Lysithea said. Mute acceptance. She wanted to stand, to yell, to demand that Hilda and Claude could be allies too, if Edelgard was so willing to throw their lot in with those  _ detestable  _ people who hurt the both of them, then why oh why did she not just make Claude join her side; but even Lysithea knew that was childish. It wasn’t that simple. If it were that simple then they’d be here already.

Lysithea couldn’t finish her tea. She stood from the table, making Edelgard let her go. Edelgard did. Lysithea knew Edelgard wanted to say more, but she refrained, and for that, Lysithea was grateful. She couldn’t give Lysithea her friends back, couldn’t refrain from killing Hilda or Claude should things look dire, but she could give her space.

* * *

The day of their siege of Derdriu came, and Lysithea could not stop the knot of nerves in her stomach. 

She tried to eat breakfast, because fighting on an empty stomach is a bad idea, even for someone without her condition. She threw up, twice, and after that, she stopped trying. She could imagine what Raphael might tell her, and that alone was enough to make her curl her hands into fists as they travelled together to Derdriu. Leonie did not look much better, and at least Lysithea could take that as something of a comfort. 

Claude, ever the schemer, occupied the ports and blockaded the city. Lysithea gathered herself as best as she could. The generals would try to avoid Hilda. Edelgard had told her she’d do her best. If Hilda weren’t stubborn, if the effort of trying to take down one of them was too much, she’d fold. Claude knew when a situation was worth surrender. That would be it.

In order to take the city; they had to secure the ports. Fine. Lysithea was fine with it, just as long as Edelgard kept her word.

Lysithea, heading up the rear of them all, hit a wyvern rider with dark magic. She did not look to the center of the city. She knew well enough who was there without ever having to meet her eyes. Her scent was on the wind—she’d said it was for special occasions. Lysithea wanted to ask what made a battle a special occasion, why now, why when you know I’m here—

There was confusion, on the battlefield. Byleth charged ahead towards Claude, there were too many fucking  _ wyverns,  _ and Lysithea was busy fielding them off, protecting Linhardt. Lysithea didn’t know where Edelgard was, she’d lost sight of her, but there were sounds of metal clanging in the distance. It could have been anything, right? It could have been nothing. But there was a sick sinking feeling in her stomach. She blasted the last of the wyvern riders, and dashed to the center of Derdriu.

Edelgard, alone. Flanked by no one. The two that were flanking Hilda had fallen, and Hilda was the only line of defense left. 

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?” Hilda said, voice light and carrying. It’s just like Lysithea remembers, teasing, like none of this actually matters to her. She never could figure out what was genuine with her and what wasn’t, it was always a guess. “Maybe you should just let me go, Princess.”

Even as Hilda said that, she advanced, axe at the ready. Hilda is the one preparing for blows,  _ Hilda  _ is the one coming at Edelgard. Lysithea can’t breathe. Edelgard gave her a warning, one that Lysithea hardly processed. When she thinks back later, she thinks she heard Edelgard say  _ one step further and I cannot be held responsible for my actions  _ or  _ I will show mercy, Hilda, step down,  _ but Lysithea can’t remember it, really. It’s fuzzy, now.

Hilda doesn’t listen. When has she ever listened?

Lysithea felt faint. There is blood, oh Goddess, Hilda fell. She thought she heard Hilda say  _ it’s been fun, Claude,  _ but she couldn’t be sure. She heard Claude cry out. Claude is smart, he knows when a battle is lost, and he folded to Byleth like a card. Lysithea collapsed.

* * *

They traveled out of Derdriu, and Lysithea did not speak. Edelgard tried in vain to speak with her, and Lysithea sat there, mute. She could not formulate a response, other than to scream at her, to rail about how unfair it is, how it isn’t right, how they spared Claude but didn’t avoid Hilda like she’d  _ asked,  _ like she had  _ begged,  _ the only scent she has is Hilda’s perfume and blood and ash and she cannot breathe she cannot—

She slept.

Lysithea dreamt of school. In her dream, she wandered the halls of Garreg Mach in the dark. She felt something behind her, something not quite human, but every time she turned around, whatever it was disappeared.

She’d always known Garreg Mach was haunted. The place gave her the creeps. In her dream, she was only going out for a late night snack, just a pick me up, but the thing following her wouldn’t give her respite.

Finally, finally, she returned to her dorm, and shut the door tight.  _ Safety,  _ she thought,  _ Finally.  _ She set her food down on her table, and turned then, to look at the mirror that hung on her wall. Lysithea in the mirror was smiling. Lysithea in the mirror had black hair. Lysithea in the mirror pressed her hand to the glass, and was mouthing something, something that Lysithea couldn’t exactly make out.

Lysithea, as if pulled by a string tied to her sternum, moved to the mirror. “What?” She asked aloud, though she knew the other Lysithea could not respond. She smiled, hand now curled against the glass. As she moved closer, she could see something behind the other Lysithea. It was fuzzy at first, hidden in the darkness, but as she got closer, she could see dark robes, skin as white as a sheet. The Lysithea in the mirror’s smile did not look happy. It looked… desperate? Lysithea stared in mute horror, as the Slitherers behind her other self moved closer and closer.

The other Lysithea banged against the glass. Lysithea jumped back, startled, only to feel something behind her. A body. Hands moved to her shoulders, holding her in place. She couldn’t move, it was as though her feet were rooted to the ground.

Whatever it was moved to Lysithea’s ear, and spoke in a voice that was not its own.

“You really are brimming with untapped potential,” it said. 

“Please stop,” Lysithea begged.

“Why didn’t you make the Princess stop, hm? I thought you two were all buddy buddy!”

“I tried,” Lysithea cried.

“Not hard enough, I guess! Oh well. These things happen in war, don’t they?”

Its arms wrapped around Lysithea. She knew well enough who it was pretending to be, by now. There was something warm and wet clinging to her fabric. All around she could smell violets, cedar, patchouli, bergamot, and  _ blood,  _ cloying. Lysithea shook. The thing began turning her around, so she’d have to see. She didn’t want to see, she didn’t need to see her again, not like that, not with her eyes unfocused and her chest cleaved. 

The thing was not kind to her. It turned her around. She saw Hilda, dead but animated, dead but alive, hands bloody, hands on her shoulders, so close she could feel her breath on her face, it leaned in, smiled, kissed her. When it pulled away it no longer wore Hilda’s face. It wore Lysithea’s. They were mirror images, hair stark white. Lysithea’s hands shook.

“Why,” she asked.

“Because it’s our fault,” she said, simply. “Maybe our  _ something meaningful _ could have been protecting her.”

Lysithea could not help the tears that sprung to her eyes. “I  _ tried.” _

“Will your body of work have meaning in a world where you couldn’t protect your friends?”

“It wouldn’t have meaning in a world with the crest system still in place!”

“The things we tell ourselves,” the other Lysithea said, with a smirk. “I don’t know how you sleep at night. The Golden Deer needed you. They were your friends, and you betrayed them. You made us a monster.”

The other Lysithea’s arms rose, her hands clasped around her throat. Lysithea knew she would die here and now, she would die and it would be by her own hand, ruining herself, she fell back onto the ground, and the ground was glass, and it shattered, and she fell, fell, fell, deep into the darkness.

When she awoke, she found that her cheeks were wet with tears. She had been carried back to her quarters, at least. They were familiar and dark and quiet. She wondered if she had just been screaming. She hoped she hadn’t.

Lysithea rose from her bed and took a few gulps of water, feet padding to her desk. She saw her balled up letter in the wastebasket by her desk. Lysithea, awash with grief, held her head in her hands. 

She thought she’d sobbed enough. There could not be enough tears for how she felt about this loss. She kept thinking about what Holst was going to do without Hilda, how Claude would be able to carry on; what of Lorenz, of Marianne, Raphael, Ignatz, what would they do? Would they blame her? Would they hate her?

She hated herself. She picked up the bottle of perfume and wept. She opened the cork, slammed her hands against the desk. How could she have done this? For what purpose? Was changing the world worth the lives it cost? Was it worth working with the Slitherers? She reaffirmed it every day, she knew what she had signed up for, what the war might mean, the toll it might take on her, and yet still…

She had no other way to express the turmoil inside of her. Lysithea took the perfume in her hand, and shattered it on the ground. She moved to her books, next, picking them up and throwing them on the ground, against the wall. She was crying out, now, screaming out her regrets in the dead of night. If someone heard, they might stop her. She didn’t care.

The heady scent of the girl she once knew filled the room. It got all over absolutely everything. She could not ever see her again. There was no going back, only going forward. When Lysithea was done with her destruction, when she’d finished tearing things down off the walls and ripping sheets off her bed, just because, she fell to the floor.

“Lysithea,” said Edelgard, who had come to her door.

“Go away,” Lysithea sobbed.

“I won’t,” Edelgard said. She moved inside, and wrapped her arms around Lysithea, as if to ground her. All of the fight had left Lysithea now, and she curled against Edelgard. 

“Why?” Lysithea cried. It was not a simple question. She was sure that Edelgard would feel the weight behind it.

“She would not stop, Lysithea. Had I fallen, you would have been next. I did what had to be done. I cannot regret protecting all of us.”

Lysithea shook in her arms, and clung to the only sister she would ever know. She wanted to be mad, but she couldn’t summon the energy. All she had inside of her now was an exhaustion that burned deep in her bones.

How terribly she wished that things were different. She understood that she could not change them now, nor could she have stopped the wheels of fate from turning in the way that they did. Lysithea had chosen this life, had chosen to follow Edelgard, and now she was seeing exactly what that choice meant. However—the most horrible, most selfish thing of all. She could not regret fighting to abolish the very thing that had ruined her and Edelgard. Not even if she tried.

When Lysithea sniffled, she could smell Hilda’s perfume, and her nails dug into Edelgard’s back.

“Promise me that this will have been worth it,” she said.

Edelgard patted her back, but did not say a word.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so very much for reading! i love hilda/lysithea but only in this really specific way... intsys really robbed us by not giving them an a-support!! i want to thank my dearest mal who roleplays lyshilda with me, without him i literally would not be writing this...!! if you enjoyed (does anyone enjoy angst?) this fic please feel free to write me a comment!! tysm!


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